Hmm, I guess links are just generally kaput right now on tumblr so I guess I'll just have to link the old fashioned way!
Finished the (first, hopefully?) fic for mermay this year, finally got around to making the Bedman-centric oneshot for Illyria Aquarium that I've had a few people request (hence why I wanted to post about it). It also served as a very fun way to do a bit more worldbuilding (and I can keep sneaking in fish facts in the process)
hey hey— i loved the angsty c!grian x reader fic (the newest one you uploaded, i mean), and was wondering if you'd do a sequel for it? not forced, obviously
as for a plot, that's entirely up to you!! i don't have any ideas atm so feel free to write whatever you want ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
thanks in advance if you do this !! /gen
Hi there! Thanks for the request! I had a bit of inspiration strike, so I hope you enjoy! The anon's talking about this fic!
Regrets Are Sweet (But My Heart is Stronger)
c!Grian x gn!Reader (one-sided)
Summary: You’ve moved on, but he doesn’t know.
Notes: Angsty, unrequited love (but reversed this time :3), could be read as mild yandere. The server that the reader has moved to is left up to you, pick your favorite!
This place is peaceful. You’ve carved out a nice little life for yourself on this server, made new friends and found a place for yourself among them. Here, you can walk around without seeing his builds, talk to people without hearing his voice, and live without a remnant of him in your mind. It’s been months since he’s crossed your thoughts.
“Thanks for the help!” You wave as the others strap on their elytras, waving back and blasting off with rockets to return to their homes. Turning, you smile. Your newest build stands proudly near your house, and despite the vast number of cows held inside, only a fraction of their “moo”s can be heard from where you are. The barn started as a personal project, but when your friends saw the skeleton of a build, they insisted on pitching in- and it’s all the better for it.
Sighing contentedly, you began to make your way back to the entrance of your home, stopping short when there’s a buzz on your communicator. Pulling it out of your pack, your eyes widen when you see the message in the general chat.
<Grian has joined the game.>
Why was he here? You stayed in place, frozen for a moment, unable to peel your attention from the message. Greetings came from your servermates, a couple questioning who he was, and he responded happily, unaware of your predicament.
Soon, another message came through:
<Grian whispered to you: Y/N! Where are you?>
It took a moment to register. Thinking for a heartbeat, you tapped out a response.
<You whispered to Grian: Don’t come to me. I’ll meet you at spawn.>
His next message was an enthusiastic acknowledgement. Stiffly, you packed a few essentials for traveling anywhere away from home, delaying as long as you thought was reasonable before setting out. Why had Grian come after you after so long, and after you left so abruptly?
When you landed at spawn, Grian was pacing at the top of a nearby hill. Upon seeing you, he grinned.
“Y/N! There you are!” He rushed forward, wings spread so he could make large leaps to clear the distance between you. Before he could hug you, though, you stepped to the side, and he pouted dramatically. “Is that any way to treat your ticket home?”
You stayed still, only tilting your head slightly. “What do you mean?”
He holds out a hand. “You can come home! Don’t you want to come back to Hermitcraft with me?”
“I am home.” Your expression remained blank. “I have friends here- family, even. You were the only one I was close to there, and that tie was severed long ago.”
Grian frowns slightly, gesturing pleadingly as he spoke. “Y/N, that tie isn’t severed. Look, I’m here! I want you to come home- I care a lot about you!”
Shaking your head, you stared at him. “I already told you. I’m staying here. I’m happy here, without you.”
“But I’m not!” He was speaking far too loudly, almost shouting in his earnestness. “Y/N, I love you!”
“You shattered my heart.” There was a chill to your voice that had never been directed at Grian before, and he stepped back. “There’s no room left there for you. I am happier and stronger without you.”
Turning, you began to leave.
“Y/N, wait!” He called out behind you. You heard the flutter of wings as he rushed forward, and you turned for a moment to glare at him. Grian shrunk back, but didn’t back down. “I’ve searched every server to find you. Please! Just give me a chance?”
You laughed. “You had every chance. You chose Mumbo and Scar, remember? I’m sure they’re waiting for you at home. Just leave, Grian.”
His head dropped, and he looked so sad you almost pitied him. “They’re… We’re not together anymore. They were never my first choice. It was always you, Y/N.”
It tore at your heart, the way your former friend looked back up at you. Grian reached out a hand again, tears plainly welling in his eyes. “Please, Y/N. I need you.”
And yet you set me to the side, every time. The words echoed in your brain, though you couldn’t bring yourself to say them out loud. “I’m not leaving my home. Goodbye, Grian.”
Turning once again, you didn’t hear any further pleads he may have made. Pulling out your communicator, you tabbed over to the map and began to return home.
TW: Simon gets hurt for like 2 seconds, but it´s only mentioned briefly
Summary: König teaches them some german but forgets he has been using one particular phrase a lot around them, which Ghost asks him about...Said phrase might translate to 'I love you' which they haven't told each other yet.
Notes: just super fluffy and wholesome, those 3 deserve it, it is set in the same „universe“ as my other fic about them; Alleine. If it’s a continuation is up to you to decide :)
Words: ~1.7K
König was sitting on his bed, back against the headrest, legs crossed. He was lost in the book he was currently reading eyes scanning the pages his mind encompassed by the story. He wasn’t wearing his hood, there was no need for it in the privacy of his own room.
There was a knock on the door, followed by two familiar voices asking if they could come in. König couldn’t hide his smile as he eagerly called back that they could enter.
His smile grew even wider as he saw Johnny who was making his way towards him in an instant, crawling on the bed and laying his head in the Austrians lap.
„Mmhh missed ya.“ he mumbled nuzzling his head on one of Königs thighs.
Ghost let out a hum, agreeing to Johnnys words. All of them knew they had only been apart for the briefing Ghost and Soap were attending but still König felt warm and fuzzy at those words. They missed him even though they weren’t apart for more than a few hours?
The thought made him blush, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.
Ghost wasn’t as eager as the Scot simply opting to sit down next to König and resting his head on his shoulder. The Austrian could see how he must’ve been smiling as well beneath his balaclava.
„What are ya reading there?“ Ghost asked his voice deep and his eyes laced with curiosity as he scanned the pages. Johnnys interest was sparked as well as he tried twisting his head in a way that would allow him to read the title on the books spine.
„Oh iz jus an old German book, my mom uzed to read it to me when I was a child.“ König answered a smile spread on his face as he indulged in reminiscences.
„Could you teach us some German König?“ Ghost requested, lifting his head from the others shoulder to look at him with questioning eyes. Oh god those eyes König could get lost in them for hours.
Johnny nodded eagerly agreeing with Simons idea but chose to keep his head in the Austrians lap. König put the book on his nightstand and proceeded to place his left hand on Soaps shoulder absentmindedly drawing little shapes on it.
„Well of courze uhm let me think…“ he trailed off, racking his brain for anything he could teach them, suddenly he had an idea. He placed his right hand on Simons cheek, thumb ghosting over his cheekbone as their eyes met. The Austrian almost got lost in them, Simons light and incredibly long lashes blinking at him.
„Du hast wunderschöne Augen.“ Königs voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke those words, his eyes soft and full of adoration as he gazed at the other man. Ghost didn’t understand the words but still felt his cheeks heating up, they had clearly been a compliment and the softness of the moment had overwhelmed him.
„W-what does it mean?“ he whispered scared that talking too loud would interrupt the wholesome atmosphere.
Now it was Königs turn to blush, nervously breaking eye contact and mumbling „Well it meanz u hav beautiful eyes.“
Simon was sure his face was bright red beneath the balaclava, his cheeks heating up and a grin spreading on his face.
„Mhh if that ain’t true Lt.“ Soap piped up.
„Ah shut up you two.“ Ghost laughed and proceeded to push up his mask to place a small peck on Königs pink cheek. His lips lingered on the others skin a bit longer than necessary, a silent thank you. Simons slightly chapped lips a stark contrast to the slight stubble on Königs cheek.
„Now make Johnny blush too.“ he whispered into the Austrians ear his lips curled into an evil grin before returning to his original position. His mask still on the bridge of his nose and his head resting against Königs shoulder.
„Hmm letz see… can’t forget our little man, right?“ König stated petting the Scots hair.
„Hey it’s not my fault you two are giants!“ Soap huffed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and pouted.
„Aww no don’t pout now, Liebling. Dein Lachen ist viel süßer.“ König noted as he gently traced the shape of Johnnys lips with his thumb. The scot was looking up at him, his eyes widened as he asked what exactly the Austrian had just said to him.
„Your smile iz way cuter.“ König whispered.
The statement had indeed made Soap blush which didn’t stop him from shooting the Austrian his biggest grin. Ghost let out a little ‚aww‘ but suddenly he remembered he had wanted to ask König for some time now…
„Hey uhm you’ve said that one phrase I can’t remember right now a few times, what does it mean?? Johnny help me out here.“
„Uhm… OH yeah ish liebe disch? That the one you meant Si?“
Ghost nodded sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest to see Königs face better. He was a bit shocked to see that the others face was bright red, well at least where he could see his cheeks, the Austrian was pressing his palms against it. An attempt to hide from the explaining that awaited him. He was silently scolding himself for being such an idiot, admitting to more serious feelings and complimenting his partners was just way easier for him in his mother tongue, definitely not because they couldn’t understand him…
Soap also sat up at the confused look Ghost shot him, crossing his legs to sit opposite of the flustered Austrian.
„Hey König I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.“ Johnny stated as he placed his hand on his tight, an attempt to ground König and asses the situation.
„Yeah you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, love.“ Ghost added, worry laced in his deep voice. He and Soap shared another worried glance.
„N-nein it’s fine I’m j-just… uhm I got thrown sa uhm bit off.“ he smiled as he removed his hands from his face. Soap had said those words without knowing what they meant but still the Austrians brain had short circuited. In order to calm his nerves König proceeded to take a deep breath as he gently took Soaps hand in his left and Ghosts in his right.
They were still confused, a nervous quiet spread throughout the room.
„Ich liebe dic-.. euch sorry plural means uhm I love you, Johnny a-and I love you Simon“ König stated eyes nervously darting between his lovers. They hadn’t said those words to each other yet except for the Austrian who hadn’t admitted to it in a language the others would’ve been able to understand. He wasn’t one to hide his feelings, in their line of field one had to appreciate every moment not spent in combat. Still those words scared him, his fear of rejection getting the best of him.
Suddenly it clicked for Soap how König would mumble those words in his ear when they were cuddling both of them almost asleep but still trying to stay awake a bit longer to relish in each others touch. How he would pant them at him after they had a play fight in bed, Soap straddling the Austrians hips, both of them out of breath and grinning from ear to ear. Königs eyes growing soft and full of endearment as he had said them hypnotised by Johnnys winded laughs and giggles.
Ghosts eyes also widened in realisation, König had said those words after an especially intense mission in which Simon had been wounded. He had rushed to the brits side as soon as everything was clear worry in his eyes, hands frantically inspecting Ghosts wounds. He had cursed and spat out various German words Simon didn’t understand and he had just gone along with it not paying closer attention.
„So ein Dreck… fuck“
And
„Ghost?? Scheiße! You wiz me?…“
But after Simon had confirmed he was doing alright and König double checked to make sure of it, he had ended with:
„Gott sei Dank, ich liebe dich.“
König had grown incredibly nervous. Why weren’t they saying anything? Oh god this had been a mistake, but he did love them why lie about it?
He was pulled out of his thoughts as Soap squeezed his hand, the others eyes searching for his. As König finally mustered up the strength to look at Johnny he saw the look of pure happiness in his face. His eyes were wrinkling at the edges and his lips were spread in a smile. Shifting his attention to Ghost he noticed a similar expression, his eyes full of love and a soft smile playing on his lips.
„I love u both too so so much, ya fuckin’ giants.“ Johnny laughed pulling both of his lovers faces closer to leave kisses all over them. Mushing Ghosts and Königs faces together, their cheeks pressed against each others as they beamed at Soap, giggling after every peck they received. Oh the Scot had those two wrapped around his little finger.
König had pulled them down with him as soon as he had the chance to, Soap was laying on top of him as Ghost was tucked into his side resting his head on the Austrians chest. Simon looked back and forth between his partners, he was feeling incredibly lucky, he almost couldn’t believe what was happening.
„I love you too Johnny… and I-I Isch lieabe disch too? uhm König.“ he mumbled a bit insecure the whole situation still overwhelming him. Nevertheless he tried to imitate how König had pronounced the words as best as he could.
Soap simply beamed at Simon pressing a kiss to his forehead. Königs cheeks were still a light shade of pink as he pulled Ghost impossibly close which led to Simon nuzzling the crook of the Austrians neck, breathing in his scent of freshly cut herbs which had mixed with Johnnys minty one.
Soap had already fallen asleep as König let out a quiet „thank zou“ voice sounding sleepy and stifling a yawn, Ghost simply replied by pressing kisses to his neck.
„Night König…“ the Brit paused contemplating his next words.
„love u.“ Simon smiled into the others neck shuffling closer a content smile on his lips as he closed his eyes.
„Ich liebe dich auch Simon.“ König yawned tightening his grip on his partners as he drifted off.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Kuro | Sleepy Ash/Shirota Mahiru
Characters: Shirota Mahiru, Kuro | Sleepy Ash
Additional Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, like very light, Kissing, Knitting, Winter, Kuro wants to leave, Emotional, kind of,
Summary:
In which Kuro has many emotions and Mahiru deals with it in form of knitting.
I used to love dystopian books, that was MY genre of book. Hunger games, divergent, dark inside, anything I could get my hands on. But then I stopped seeking them out, and even started avoiding them. Reading was supposed to be an escape. And when I was younger those books were an escape to a world that was wrong but the protagonists worked hard to make things right.
And then I became a minority, a queer disabled kid. I always was queer and disabled, but didn’t fully realize it or have the words to describe it until I was about 12. I loved dystopian books, but it was impossible to pick them up once the pages reflected my life and the world I lived in.
I was told dystopian books were a warning for the future. They were written to give us an idea of morality, of right and wrong, and how grey that really is. They existed to criticize past and present, to protect the future.
I wasn’t told dystopian books would feel like looking in a mirror. Seeing yourself right there fighting to stay alive, even if the circumstances were wildly different. I was told they were written for us to keep in mind in the future. I wasn’t told they reflected the present. It wasn’t until I became the attacked that I realized we live in that world today. That it isn’t just a warning or a reminder about the past. It’s a call to action, not a warning.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Posting this here primarily just so my sister can see it bc she promised me if I made something for TADC she'd read it
I did not expect to get into this series. It is eating my brain now. Unsurprisingly I like Kinger a lot and it's not even because of the VA bias (honestly didn't even recognize him when he's got the Jeff Bennett thing going on with his voice) but his character of being scatterbrained and screwed up with a big fatherly soft spot overlaps significantly with Faust. So I guess fittingly I made a rambling nightmare fic that's similar to a couple ones I've done for him in the past. I feel like it's missing something but I'm not quite sure, might come back to it
And now, onto the prompt that got this whole project rolling!
Several months ago, I'd hard this song playing on the radio again. I had the thought cross my mind that 'oh, perhaps I could make a horror fic about this, given Chipp is pretty heavily inspired by the singer. It might be fun to do it as a musical reference!' Soon enough, that thought was followed with 'huh, well, why not do something similar for everyone and make a full challenge out of it instead of a oneshot?' Several months (and perhaps way too much time on Metal Archive) later, here we are!
Somewhat interestingly, though, while writing this one, I found that the horror slipped somewhat away from the obvious reference and touched more on the fear related to addiction and relapse. This one might be a little touchy for folks who are squeamish when it comes to substance abuse, so absolutely feel free to skip this one
Goretober Homebrew Day 20
Character: Chipp Zanuff
Title Reference Source: Song by Billy Idol, off of Rebel Yell (1983)
Character Connection: Musician as namesake
Content Warnings: Drugs (non-consensual drugging, discussed past substance abuse), addiction, medical procedures, medical torture, body horror
-
Chipp awoke as he often did, dry-mouthed and sluggish. He automatically reached in the direction of his bedside water bottle, only to find his arm unresponsive.
A grumble left him. He shifted in place. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen asleep on his arms, but that didn’t make it any less irritating. The light streaming through his eyelids told him it was morning, but, ugh, he really didn’t want to get up yet. Was Answer trying to get him up earlier? Keeping the curtains drawn was something he preferred for a reason, let alone having to worry about how easily he burned if he wasn’t paying attention. It wasn’t his fault he had sensitive skin!
In the throes of surly sleepiness, he hadn’t quite registered anything being amiss. His other hand moved to scratch an itch at his side, but it was just as immobile. Another tug, then another, and only then did the situation occur to him as being something out of the ordinary. It took him several more attempts to force his eyes open, both through the sleepiness and the stinging light. He turned his head, hoping to jar himself awake, and jolted at the feeling of cold metal against his cheek.
Chipp jerked awake, eyes shooting open, only to immediately regret it and grimace under the light. He squinted and blinked rapidly to try and clear the blur away. The vague, general feeling of tightness narrowed itself down to his arms and legs. He could shimmy his hips and roll his shoulders, but that didn’t allow for much range. Whatever had his limbs pinned down was snug enough to keep him otherwise in place.
Turning to find the culprit, all that awaited him were rolls of a plasticky blush material, covering him like a blanket up to his neck. The outline of his body was loose and vague through it. Something definitely had a hold on him, but the only details he could garner were from the bits of skin brushing against the material. Chipp tried to twist an arm to feel how it felt against him. Yet oddly, his arms didn’t quite feel like they were connected to him. Even without whatever was holding them down, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to move them much, if at all.
Alright. Waking up in a dark space, chained up. That was new, but he’d been in plenty of weird situations before. He tried not to panic, despite the automatic quickening of his heart rate under the weird sheet-thing. How had he gotten there? It couldn’t have been random.
Chipp tried to think. Parts of him were trying to catch up to the rest. No thoughts began and concluded in a single, smooth motion. Stuttery thoughts shuddered to a start and tumbled apart into incoherency. The ever-glaring overhead light- some sort of lamp, not the sun after all- made focus even more cumbersome. His hands clenched and unclenched in his restraints to both give him something to ground himself with and to jog his memory.
Bits and pieces clung on after some time, nebulous but tangible memory. Following someone- into a house? He knew he had followed on purpose. They’d invited him- right, a smile, he remembered smiling. He’d been handed a drink and told to make himself comfortable. He recalled sitting down somewhere, and then…and then…
Icy horror shot through his body. He hadn’t simply fallen asleep. That tug on his consciousness was one he knew painfully well. He’d broken his sobriety. Not by his own intention, but that didn’t soften the sting. Years of abstinence, of overcoming the urge to turn to drugs, all undone.
Before he could decide if he was more aghast or furious, there was the sound of hinges creaking behind him. Chipp attempted to arch his back against the table so he could tilt his head upward for a better view. All he could make out was the very top of a doorframe as it swung shut again.
The newcomer, intentionally or not, saved him the trouble. A figure rounded where Chipp had found himself tied down to, and upon their eyes meeting, he beamed. “Ah, good morning, sir!”
‘Sir?’ That title, in that voice, it sounded familiar. Chipp squinted at the man, at his rounded and bespectacled face. He…they had spoken, hadn’t they? That voice coming from that face, in someplace other than a dark room.
All of this was making his head hurt. Still, Chipp persisted, forcing his brain to dredge up any kind of information. It must have been recent, hadn’t it? At least whatever had led to him being here.
’Sir? Sir! Sir, please- !’
It had…what had it been? A public broadcast? Outside, that was the important part. He’d been there in person, dedicating something or discussing something else, taking advantage of the nice weather. Things had been going smoothly. Answer had even been pleased, offering to handle cleanup himself while his boss went home early.
’Sir, please! I need your help!’
That man hadn’t been there. Or maybe he had, someplace in the crowd, but Chipp hadn’t noticed him. When he had been approached afterward, he recalled not being familiar with that face. It hadn’t been the first time someone approached him after a public showing. Several people had come asking questions, or to comment on the quality, or to offer words of support. He’d simply assumed he was another civilian looking for small talk.
‘Yes?’ Chipp had replied, putting on one of his nicer million-yen smiles. ’Something I can do for you?’
’I’m so sorry to ask this of you, but I don’t believe there are many others that could help me.’
As an elected official, few things could catch his attention quicker. 'What? What is it, citizen?'
Merely being looked at had made his expression turn relieved. Hadn’t it? It was more of a feeling than a solid recollection. ‘My son, he- he’s in dire need of help. Ever since the accident, he’s been unwell, barely able to leave the house. I’ve done what I could to heal the damage, but I’m not sure he’s ever going to fully recover without a proper replacement.’
’A transplant?’ Though keeping it to himself, Chipp had cringed at the thought. Anything involving needles and hospitals tended to put him on edge. It reminded him far too much of his youth.
’Yes. I’ve searched all across the country- nay, the continent- trying to find someone who’s a compatible match for him. Finding someone with the correct blood type, correct Rh factors, every crossmatching and health test has been an uphill battle. The few that I have found that were healthy and able to help my son, they all refused and turned me away. I’ve grown desperate, sir.’ He clasped his hands together, head lowered. ‘Please, mister President. I ask you as a father. I don’t want my boy to suffer anymore.’
Chipp had still been apprehensive at being approached so abruptly. He could see the desperation in the man’s eyes, though, and it softened his unease. His personal discomfort couldn’t come at the cost of an innocent life.
So he’d given him a warm smile. ‘Of course. Helping people is what a President is for!’
While distracted in thought, Chipp hadn’t noticed the man wandering around the room, grabbing various items off of the shelves. A little humming ditty left his mouth as he worked, as though all of this was entirely normal, and most people had the president-elects of their respective countries tied to tables on a regular basis.
“Y’drug me.” Chipp slurred. He hadn’t realized how unresponsive his body truly was until speaking came into the mix.
“I know, I know.” The man calmly nodded. “It merely seemed like a faster way to set up. I didn’t want you to get cold feet.”
“Y’ din’t- ” There wasn’t any need to do this, he wanted to say, I said I would help you.
“I wanted to ensure this would be done as swiftly as could be. I assure you, my home office is just as up to snuff as any operating room!” The man held up what took him several moments to recognize as forceps, before placing them on a nearby tray.
Wait- this was where they were going to do it?? No wonder this freak had knocked him out, there was no way he’d ever agree to getting cut up in a place like this! A regular hospital was already pushing things out of his comfort zone, how could he be sure any of this was legit??
‘Transplant’ nothing, Chipp was fully convinced this was just some full-on psycho organ peddler. How could he possibly have been so stupid?
“Daddy?”
Chipp froze.
“Billy?” The man looked up from the counter. He smiled. “Ah, Billy, come introduce yourself. It’s only polite.”
Chipp forced his head to lift from the table. Though difficult to see, the far wall of the room was not a wall after all, but an unlit passageway. From the shadowed hall came a young boy, a hair taller than the man. Chipp could only assume he was young. Nearly every inch of his face was wrapped in bandages, criss-crossing like mummy wrappings. The only feature visible through it was a pair of eyes, peering out from the shadows. His shoulders were slumped and nervous, only emerging further into view with more gestures from the man.
Upon seeing Chipp, however, he grew far more bold. A few steps put them nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. A scarred hand reached out to stroke his jaw, gentle, almost reverent in its carefulness.
“Oh, daddy, it’s so pretty…” His voice was low and stilted, syllables coming out strangely. Given the bandages, Chipp had to wonder what state his mouth was in. He had to wonder what state any of his face was in under there. “That’s gonna be mine?”
“Yes, sweetheart.” The man approached his son, patting his shoulder with the sort of gingerness only a parent could convey. “And I promise this one will last.”
‘Last?’ “Whuh- whu-...“
“Now go lay down, alright? I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Daddy needs to do his work in peace so he can make you as pretty as possible.”
“Okay…” The boy made a noise, like laughter, if it was performed by a rusted lawnmower. He gave Chipp another fond look as he turned. “Thank you…thank you so much…”
Once he had vanished into the shadows once more, the man turned his attention back to his supplies. A now-full tray was carried back to the table. Chipp watched him sort them, fingers flicking at the air as he went back to his humming.
“I really can’t thank you enough, sir. Years of cruelty and humiliation can’t be undone, but my boy will finally be able to have a normal life again. You’re going to make him beautiful.”
This guy was insane, absolutely off the deep end. And he’d walked right into it. This wasn’t at all what he’d had in mind upon hearing the word ‘transplant.’ If he could go back and give the man not only a no, but the fiercest thrashing possible, he would have. But what good did that do him now?
As he glared, his captor calmly pulled back a corner of the blue tarp. Underneath, there was a thick strap keeping his arm pinned, as expected. There was also something else, something he hadn’t noticed in his attempts at wiggling. Something half-poking out from the joint of his elbow, a clear tube that buried itself under his skin.
The sight of it made Chipp jerk back, protesting in wet, incoherent syllables that were far less understandable and dignified than what a ninja should have been capable of. It was in him, oh fuck, it was in him, nothing was supposed to be in him, he promised- he hadn’t-
“Calm down, calm down. I know shots are scary, but now that the line’s in, I won’t have to do any more, okay?”
A pat on the shoulder just made him resist more, gritting his teeth and jerking his arms in their restraints. It didn’t help. It didn’t do anything. The sight of that thing embedded in his arms flopped with the motion, and- oh fuck, oh fucking hell, he could feel it moving- !
“N-nuh, n’m’re-” None of the words he wanted came to form. His mouth lagged, but his brain was rushing around in panic. No drugs, no drugs, for the love of everything, I’ll let you cut me open with a rusty-ass butter knife and rip out my guts with your bare hands, but no fucking drugs!!
Of course, none of his thoughts went heard. Even if they had been, he doubted they would be listened to. In desperation, Chipp merely blubbered around the few noises he could force out. “N’more…”
“Certainly not, sir!” The man looked down at him, playfully scolding. “I just said ‘no more needles,’ didn’t I?” He held up a bag. “I’m a man of my word! Don’t worry about a thing. I’m a professional. I know this sort of thing takes a delicate hand, and having you get all squirmy and screamy will just go and make a big mess! I just need to hook this up, then it’ll be a smooth ride from there! You won’t feel a thing!”
It did the opposite of calm him down. “Nuh, nuh- nnnnnn- !!”
Speaking wouldn’t have stopped it. Maybe it would have made it feel like he’d put up more of a resistance. He turned his head away, yet he still felt it the moment the tube connected and its contents escaped inside of his body.
Numbness washed over him in a wave. Were it not for it immediately relaxing all his muscles, Chipp would have thrown up then and there. It felt good. He hated that it felt good. After all these years, his stupid dumbass brain immediately recognized the hazy vertigo. Despite the dread in his guts, there was still a little jitter in the back of his mind, elated by the sudden rush of chemical balm in his blood.
Chipp was going to kill him. No quarter, no diplomacy, he was going to cut this man down like the animal he was.
“How are we feeling?” The man asked, as cheery as ever.
Chipp had no reply. Not even his slowing thoughts could supply one in his mouth’s stead.
His captor frowned. “Oh, dear, why are you crying?” He grabbed a patch of gauze from his tray and used it as a makeshift tissue, blotting the man’s cheeks dry. “There’s nothing to be scared of! I promise, you won’t feel a thing!”
It would have been better if it hurt. Pain was tolerable. This was a degradation he couldn’t take with such ease. He wondered if he managed to throw up after all, he’d choke on it and drown. He hoped so.
The damp gauze was swapped out for a fine scalpel. “I won’t be cutting too deep, but therein lies the issue! Cutting too deep would damage the underlying tissues, but too shallow ruins the skin! So I need you to sit very, very still, and I need to be very, very careful. Let’s both do our best, okay?
Just as promised, it wasn’t painful. All he could feel was a bit of pressure, alongside a little ’pop,’ as the scalpel’s tip eased under the ridge of his jaw and slowly began tracing up his cheek.
